


To The Ends Of Earth

by littledance



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Emo Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Korean Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Matt Holt/Shiro, Multi, Not My Shiro, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Voltron Paladins - Freeform, all the voltron stuff, broganes, clone shiro - Freeform, fight against zarkon, lions and stuff, lotor - Freeform, lotor is a daddy, space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 16:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12369951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledance/pseuds/littledance
Summary: None of them had a plan after they left with the blue lion that one night. Now they're the most important people of the universe, with an equally daunting task.But being a Paladin of Voltron is a ironically solitary business- and Lance has never felt more alone.





	1. A Star in The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Basically Season three/four with more angst (and klance). Enjoy!

The hum of the castle's mechanics sang its lonely song throughout the empty halls. It may or may not have been night, unknown to any of the paladins seeing as it was constantly dark outside and the concept of time had long been forgotten, but everyone had agreed to at least try and sleep at that point. Lance tried and failed.

He'd watched the sapphire glowing lights pulse in the corner of the- well, his room for the past hour or so, but every night in a month doing so desensitized him to the distraction. They all called it his room, even Lance at some point, but the truth was he never had acknowledged it as his own. The castle would not and never would be home. Ever. Earth was home. His home, where his room was.

Rolling on to his back, Lance pushed a deep sigh from his chest. Then he shut his eyes. Nope, still nothing. Dammit. He thought about sneaking down a few doors and checking if Hunk was up, although knowing Hunk, he was probably out cold by now. Everyone was probably asleep, maybe Keith- but there was no way he was turning to that asshole anytime soon. He was already stressed enough as it was.

Lance found himself humming an old song his Abuela used to sing to him. He could only remember the first words, as she'd often just rub where he'd hurt himself and whisper "Sana, sana.".

"Sana, sana." He said, to no avail.

He longed to fall asleep to the sounds of rain, or wind, or cars. Maybe birds, or rushing water. Just something other than the nothingness of space, or the hum of the castle's unending lullaby. Maybe he would wake Hunk up. Or Pidge, they're always up for a round of video games. Lance was just overcome with longing for home that he was up anything at that point. Maybe even Keith.

But he couldn't find the energy to get up, to cross through the hallways of the castle and to stand awkwardly outside their doors until someone- or no one- opened. So Lance just continued staring at the walls, humming a little louder than the castle was.

It might have been morning when Lance next regained consciousness. He heard a few doors whirr open, a few footsteps patter. Once the noise had settled, he made his way out into the illuminated hallway. The shape of someone had just disappeared behind a corner. By the way it slumped off, presumably Keith. He was probably going back into Shiro's room, to check on him. The missing leader had only been back a few days and was rarely seen outside his room. Sometimes, Lance saw the silhouette of him trailing into the Lion hangar, but even then he'd lock himself in there for what might have been hours at a time. For all Lance could tell, Shiro was not well. And Keith was worried.

And when he ran into Keith on his way back from Shiro's cave, it was obvious. Lance might have tried reaching out to him, offering him comforting words or a friendly hug, but even he could tell that wouldn't cut it. Keith was growing more and more stressed, not only with Shiro's return but something was just getting in that guy's head. Lance already knew that for all his rivalry with the boy, inside Keith was a tortured soul. And for that, Lance hurt as well.

And just as quick as he disappeared, so reappeared the substitute leader, and he stormed back with his glance focused just away from Lance.

"Hey, man-"

Keith kept walking, turning his head away.

Lance watched him walk away, just as he had the past few times. He hoped Shiro would regain himself again soon, for the sake of everyone.

It might have been night again, when Lance sat down on the bed and swept aside the days thoughts so that he could maybe sleep in peace. Gentle steps outside his room caught his attention enough to distract him for a while. Jumping at the opportunity, Lance opened the door to find Coran patrolling the hall.

"Lance! Everything alright?"

Lance sighed and laughed gently.

"No, I'm fine! Just, uh, thought I heard something."

"Just me," said Coran, "Having a little stroll, you see. Want to join me? You look like you could use it."

"Sure."

He walked alongside the Altean in silence for a few seconds as Coran droned on about some creature or some planet- Lance couldn't tell. He watched the walls passing, counted each door.

"...and I just thought 'Quiznak! That's the end of me' when I saw that thing. Well, anyway. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Me? Yeah, of course. Just lost in thought."

"Care to unload them?"

"Well," he started considering telling him about his worries about Shiro, about Keith, telling him about his homesickness, loneliness, the crippling, crippling loneliness. Would he tell him about the fear, the anger and the slipping grip on reality? Could he tell him about the swallowing feeling of being lost all the time?

"No, its stupid. Really, I'm okay. Just haven't been sleeping well."

Too much was happening at the moment for all these thoughts to be addressed. Lance didn't have the energy to start unpacking them.

"If you insist. Let me walk you back, at least."

Lance nodded, giving him a wave as they arrived to the room.

The next maybe-weeks were spent with differing renditions of the usual events: Voltron formed, deformed, enemies defeated, alliances gained, planets visited, stars destroyed, nights not slept, Keith still pacing, or missing, or training. He had been in and out all week, despite the grumbling of the paladins.  
Shiro was 'back', at least thats what Lance believed although he secretly had his doubts about the returned leader. He would never dare to vocalize them, but something just seemed off. Whatever. It was nice to see Shiro cooperating again, as well as Keith more relaxed (although he still seemed very stressed with the Blade of Marmora traning), but with Shiro back and Allura piloting the blue Lion... something had to give. And it was probably Lance. God knows how he'd even come to address that urgent worry, seeing as he already had so many internalized.

But that was something to worry about later. Lance just enjoyed the momentary peace within Team Voltron and let himself gently drift off to sleep. He would wake up to a new day, and that was good enough for him now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith reflects. Pidge searches. Lonliness has never been more prevalent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Lil update here. I'm f*cking swamped with schoolwork, sorry for the wait! It's such a destressor for me to sit down and keep working on this story when I have a minute ~w~ I hope y'all enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it (and drawing my children *casual art promo who??? ;)*)

KEITH

Keith locked the door behind him. It didn't take him much time to figure out if the doors weren't locked, someone or something would easliy slip inbetween at particularily inopportune moments. Despite the castle's ability to create a large, solitary paradise for Keith, it seemed as if everyone was raised in a fucking barn and loved to barge in everywhere a door wasn't completely barred shut. Shiro was a prime offender of this- at least he was, before he left and returned.

After learning the especially hard way, Keith always made sure to lock the door. He threw himself on the bed, sighing and breathing in the cold, chemically smell it omitted. Sometimes, during the day- well, "day" used lightly, Keith took a minute to stare into the darkness of his mattress. No screaming, no crying, just staring. Just staring. The kid was so exhausted, so drained after a simple Paladin's schedule, plus Shiro counsel time, Blade of Marmora training, yelling into the void, voltron shenanigans and his own internal tormenters that Keith transcended sleep; he would lie there, 15 minutes maybe an hour, just staring.

And then he'd get back up and resume as usual. Check on Shiro. Continue his training missions. Yell into fucking space. Voltron PR and/or actual fighting. Although lately, it had only been PR. What does that matter anyway? Keith didn't give one diddly fuck about putting on a show. He came to fight, defend, and leave. They had fought, defended and now he was leaving. If PR was all they planned on doing now, they could count Keith out.

Fuck this. At least he was actually fucking doing something with the Blade. At least they were actually doing work to do what Voltron was supposed to be doing. Now that Shiro's all fine and dandy and shit, thats what Keith expected them to be doing. And then people got mad at him for doing his training? For actually fucking doing something. They could accuse him of abandoning Voltron all they fucking wanted to, but at least Keith wasn't just sitting around, saying lines and claiming that was work.

Fuck that. He felt anger rise into his throat, burning through to the tip of his tongue. He needed someone to yell at. There must have been some sort of blame somewhere. Pidge was easily distracted from Voltron, Coran was meddling and micromanaging, Hunk... was just a well rounded and nice guy- Keith had a hard time associating a reason to be upset at him. Allura could be pretty clueless and begrudging. Shiro was acting really strange and needed to get his damn act together. It didn't make sense- he just seemed crankier than ever and... how could the team be led by someone like that? And Lance, he was just a fucking prick in the end who only cared about showing off, or convincing people he was cool, or flirting with space girls, or whatever.

Fuck him, Keith growled as he felt it burn even stronger. Fuck him, fuck the blue lion, fuck the red lion, and especially, FUCK the black lion. That's it. He needed to move around.

Keith pushed himself off the bed. That had been a particularly productive reflecting session. Hopefully he wouldn't run into anyone on the way to the training hall, as he was certain he couldn't contain his rage this time.  
-

PIDGE

The air in the castle was cold and clean, too crisp and artificial for it to have felt in any way comforting or homely. At least Pidge could breathe. They ambled around the empty common room, initially on the hunt for some company, but distracted by the emptiness of the castle. Life around the castle was essentially no different than the seasides of earth: it retreated into the mass of events around it, or it emerged, all at once and much too fast, almost suffocatingly. Never inbetween. Either one was painfully alone, or one could not find solitude in any lone corner of the ship.

It seemed as if people went through waves of caring; They could never find the energy to give a shit at the right time. When Pidge started their hunt for Matt, they had the undying support of the Voltron Team. Then it was all "Who?" or "You're still looking, Pidge?" or "Okay.".

The team had found something else to care about, and Pidge felt hurt.

But of course, that didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Nothing did, but especially not their own paladins and not their families, lives, worries, joys, relationships, hopes or darkest fears. No one cared that Lance was locked in his room after each mission. No one cared that Hunk was crying in the hall last 'night'. No one cared that Shiro looked ragged and worn, more than any of them had ever seen him before. No one cared that Pidge was so close to finding Matt, they couldn't even allow themself a single thought to pass through their brain without being reminded of just how damn near he was. All their work, everything they had initially come out here for, right in front of their nose- and the paladins didn't care. Or at least it seemed so, sometimes. Other times, they offered Pidge undying support and comfort. And those times were good, they were great. They'd all work hard, enjoy each others company, laugh- whatever one needed, the Voltron Family was there for you.

But dynamics had been off within the Voltron Family, for what seemed to be weeks. Everyone seemed so damn wound up in their own issues, that the true nature of their relationships were coming to light; No one, with exception of Allura and Coran, understood the other in the depth that was necessary to survive alone out here.

Hunk and Lance, schoolfriends but ultimately very different, Shiro and Keith, estranged brothers, whatever the hell Lance and Allura, or Keith and Allura, or even Lance and Keith were to eachother, and Pidge?

Pidge liked to think they got on with everyone- but they didn't really know how to address people's wants and needs. And no one else did either.

They wanted, no, longed for that to change.

The universe was cruel, and unforgiving, lonely, with millions of unanswered wishes and prayers. The universe didn't care if you were sad, if you wanted company, or if you wanted home. It needed saving- you came, you saved, you came again, you saved again. That was it.

Pidge guessed, outside of saving the universe, they didn't really matter - to the universe and to each other. But Pidge wouldn't let themself fall into the chaos. Pidge would emerge, one solitary ripple.

They knocked on Lance's door. They hugged Hunk. They tried to ease Shiro's stress. And they kept looking for their brother, with every shred of energy Pidge found in themself, even if it didn't matter. Because to Pidge, it all mattered the world.

After all, Voltron was the only family any of them had.  
-

KEITH

They caught each other, alone in the kitchen. Keith, with the sleeves of his sweater rolled up past his elbows, sweat and scuffs covering his otherwise bare forearms. Lance, in an oversized hoodie that had clearly not been taken off the past few days. There was no way either of them could walk past quickly, they had already locked eyes and recognized one anothers presence.

But no words passed, or would pass between them. Lance stared at Keith, and Keith stared back, both lips twitching trying to find the words to say, anything, but the air was quiet.

Lance's eyes wandered down to Keith's swollen hands. He still couldn't find anything to say.

Keith's eyes were fixed straight ahead. Also silent.

And then, Lance grabbed what he presumably had come for; He snatched an empty, grey metal cup from a compartment and filled it with lukewarm tap water. It spilled over the side as he rushed.

"Night, Keith."

"Sleep well."

Lance hesitated, but quickly moved on without throwing another glance behind.

Keith watched him walk away, releasing a sigh that had built up over the past minutes. He began to feel guilt, for cussing Lance out in his head earlier. Maybe they could talk when they woke again.

But Keith didn't want to talk. Lance didn't want to talk, he assumed. Shiro- there was no talking with him. Pidge and Hunk wouldn't get it. Coran and Allura were aloof and clueless.

No, he did want to talk. He NEEDED someone to talk to. Any more reflecting sessions and Keith might just have gone insane.

For fucks sake, he just needed someone.


	3. Couting Lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance can't sleep again and is completely desperate for some company, no matter where he can find it.

LANCE

He's so annoying." Lance proclaimed one night to Hunk.

They were sat on the floor, playing some generic fighting video game that Lance had acquired through that weird shop in the Space Mall. Lance wasn't even looking at the screen when they fought, and still he'd win. He was some sort of genius when it came to fighters. Too bad he wasn't this good in real life.

"He's always thinking he's so freaking great, ya know? Like, I get it, he's a talented pilot, fighter, whatever. But he doesn't have to take every opportunity to show it off."

"Mmh."

Lance tilted his head and looked back at the screen.

"You know, he only pretended not to know who I was to piss me off. He knew exactly."

"Seems both of you are forgetful."

Lance asked what he meant. Hunk laughed and made a hugging motion with his arms.

"Oh Keith! My saviour! We do make a good team! Now cradle me some more in your big, soft arms-"

"That never fucking happened." He said through a laugh, "No way."

They both smiled and leaned back against the wall.

"You really hate the guy that much, huh?"

"I mean, 'hate's a pretty strong word." Lance argued, "He just pisses me off. There are just some people you can't get on with."

"I get it. But things considered you guys manage to put your differences aside for Voltron, and thats pretty admirable."

"I guess."

Hunk cleared his throat to fill the bried silence. 

“Welp. I’m hitting the sack, buddy.” Hunk said as he rested the controller on his knee.

Lance turned away as he felt his chest tensing up. No, don’t go yet. I don’t wanna be alone again, I’m not ready yet, he wanted to say. But he didn’t. He stayed quiet and nodded before clearing his throat.

“Oh, uh. Yeah. Sorry for keeping you up.”

Hunk gently patted his arm before standing up and heading towards the door. Whilst he walked he chortled:

"And you have sweet Keithy dreams."

"Oh my god."

"I'm just saying-"

"Good NIGHT, Hunk."

"Sleep well, man." He added.

And then he left, and Lance was alone again. He could sit with all the paladins in the world, talk, or play video games, for hours, and still he'd be left alone in the end. One's expected to be fine after some comfort, to be calmed down enough to go to sleep again. Lance always felt worse afterwards, and he couldn't go and reach out again. He was expected to be fine, right? Sorry to wake you, Hunk, it’s just I’m having some trouble sleeping and I’d like to talk about it. How much easier it came to him in his head than from his mouth. Lance couldn’t count the times he’d stood, mouthing those exact words in front of every door, filling in the name Hunk with anybody who had seemed nice to Lance that day. And he never knocked. This time, Hunk came to him. Shit, if Hunk could do it, why couldn’t Lance?  
He unplugged the console and dragged the blankets back onto the bed, pushing them into a pile in the lower corner. And he laid down, counting backwards from a hundred. Lance reached forty two before he realized this wasn't going to work. He tried in Spanish, where he got to quarentatres. He tried remembering the few numbers Shiro taught him in Japanese, but did get much farther than juu-ni counting forwards. Italian was too similar to Spanish, it wouldn't have been a challenge. 

What about Korean? 

He couldn’t. Could he? He’d just laugh at him. He might not. How could Lance even talk to him now, after that awkward encounter in the kitchen the other day? Shit. Count to three, no five, and then you get up and march into that living room, Lance. One. Two. Thhhhhhhhreeeeeeeeeeaaaand a half. Get up. No, you get up. What? Get up, Lance. Just ask him. Just ask. How do I count to ten in Korean? Why the fuck? 

Lance pulled himself out of bed and made his way to the common room. What was Lance doing? He should go back. Keith doesn’t want to talk to him, why would he?

Keith was drinking some sort of liquid out of one of the metal cups. He was spaced out and staring into the distance.

Go.

"Not tired?" Lance asked when he approached him.

What he wanted, Keith asked. If he could teach him to count to twenty in Korean, Lance responded. Keith told him to fuck off and go to sleep. Lance sat down, with slight hesitance.

"Lance, it's late. Why the fuck-"

"Just one to ten, then. Please?"

Keith cocked his head and stared at him with an expression of irritated confusion.

"Why the fuck?"

"I just want to know."

Lance paused.

"I mean- Well, I- I was trying to count to a hundred in all the languages I knew, and I mean, I could only get to about fifteen in the Japanese that Shiro taught me, so I thought maybe, 'Huh. Korean?', and I was gonna ask you. Korean is pretty cool, and you speak it right? You know, maybe just a few numbers. Not many. Just so I can count a little. Uh. Uhm. Well. Kind of stupid, and pointless now that I think about it."

Keith's eyes glazed over.

"Why were you counting to a hundred in different languages?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"I get it. Not the counting thing, thats just weird, but... the not sleeping thing."

Lance asked if he had had trouble sleeping for long. Keith shrugged.

"It is what it is. I get quick naps during the day. Well, the hypothetical day."

"I'll give that a try." Lance commented, "You know, when we’re not out defending the universe. Well. When I’m not."

Keith clicked his tongue softy, placing the cup down on the table in front of them. They locked a tense stare for a beat before Lance turned away.

“I- uh, I didn’t mean it like that.” He said.

“What did you mean it like, then?”

“It’s not like I’m wrong.”

“If that’s what you really came here to talk to me about, then I’m going to bed myself. Good night, Lance.”

Lance sighed.

"No, Keith. That's not it."

"I work as hard as you guys. If not twice as hard." He whispered harshly, "So cut the bullshit, Lance. I don't want to talk about this."

Lance really should have just stayed in bed. There was no use in trying to talk to Keith, there was no normal conversation with such a guy. Lance stared at his feet in silence. He should probably get up and leave now, this campaign had come to a complete fail and it was time to retreat. But Lance remained glued to the plastic seating as he continued watching his feet. And suddenly, the silence was broken again.

"Hana."

"What?"

"It's Korean for one. Do you want to learn or not?"

Lance exhaled sharply with a laugh and repeated the word a few times out loud, before Keith interrupted.

"Dul is two. So hana, dul."

"Hannah, dull-"

"No. No, god its definitely not dull." Keith coughed through slightly facetious laughter.

If he could repeat it again, Lance requested. Keith obliged. Lance repeated it almost exactly as he had done before, with Keith shaking his head viciously.

"You know what, Spanish is easier. And nicer. I'll stick to that."

"Hey! You're the one that wanted me to teach you in the first place. Not my fault you can't get past two."

"Maybe you're just a shit teacher."

"Oh yeah?" Keith snarled, "Maybe you're just a shit student."

"No fucking way. I bet I can get to ten within the next five- no, three minutes."

"By heart?"

"By heart."

"Alright." Keith stretched, "Challenge accepted. I'll set a timer."

Keith barked a word, which was then chanted back by Lance, and then repeated for nine times. And once again the whole round. Half of a third round could be squeezed in before Keith's wristband started to scream angrily.

"Times up. Lets see what ya' got."

"HANA, DUL, SET, NET, DA uhh DASEOT?"

"Yep."

"DASEOT, HOSOTE-"

"HAH! WRONG BITCH."

"What?" Lance refuted, "No way. Yo-sote."

"First of all, its Yeoseot. Secondly, you said Hosoht."

Lance protested that he didn't.

"Yes you did."

"Did not."

"You fucking did!"

"Basically the same thing. You got me off my roll." He conceded.

Keith snorted, unattractively and loudly.

"What roll? Six numbers is hardly a roll."

"It is in my books."

"Roll or not, you failed the challenge." Keith whacked his arm and stood up, "Now go to sleep, if we're done here."

"Alright, alright." Lance sighed, pulling himself up slowly, "I'll be off."

He smacked Keith's hand in a friendly manner, flashing an uncertain grin before he finally turned to leave.

"Maybe I'll give you another chance tomorrow."

"Night, Keith."

"Night."

Lance slipped out of the common room and through the hall, counting to ten in broken Korean. And repeating that when he reached his bedside again. Once more when he climbed underneath the sheets. Hana. He kinda felt guilty for badmouthing Keith all the time- Keith wasn't a bad guy, he supposed. Dul. Although Lance would never admit it ever, he missed Keith's banter when he was out on his missions. Set. But then when he was there, they'd argue until one of them left the room, slamming the door behind him and groaning in frustration. Net. And the constant shit talking would ensue; Keith this and Lance that. They had refused to speak to one another for hours at a time and only made up after being forced into an elevator together. Even then, the air was frostbitten- as it was often. Daseot. It was nuts, he meant, how could one guy be so changable in the way he treated someone? Yeoseot. Some days Keith seemed to tolerate lance. Other days, less so. It's all because of Shiro that Keith has been acting up. Yeoseot. Lance already said that. He didn't remember the others. Hana. Well, it didn't matter much anymore. Keith was barely around to get annoyed at Lance, and Lance barely ever had the chance to see Keith when he was around. Dul. Set. Net. Who even came up with these numbers? Probably just Keith messing with him. 

It seemed they were both one and the same in one issue: insomnia. He knew how to be good company in desperate measures. Sincerely desperate measures, it seemed. And so, it was a weird, unstable, tense and spontaneous friendship, but one that Lance strangely valued nevertheless. Or at least, Lance valued the idea of this hypothetical bond that they had made that night. Maybe he wasn’t as alone as he built himself up to be. Maybe there was someone there who understood his pain, to a degree. Lance for the first time in a long while felt optimistic.

Despite all, Keith was still an asshole though, in Lance’s opinion. But maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. Who knows? Maybe they’d even have a real conversation next time.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When question comes to Keith's commitement to Voltron, everyone is worried. It's starts to dawn on everyone that things may be more chaotic than they had first thought.

LANCE  
Keith was nowhere to be seen.  
Shiro, who had then come out of his cave and taken a seat in the far corner of the seating area, had stayed quiet. He had probably realized that by then, every paladin in the room was inspecting his body language and mannerisms from the corners of their eyes. But he still did not speak. He too watched every movement with a careful gaze and lips firmly pressed shut. Lance had been watching that intensely. 

Nobody knew where Keith was, or when he planned to return. They only had an hour until they were scheduled to perform in order to recruit people for the coalition, and it was pretty hard to form Voltron when the key player is missing. They waited with hope; false, naive hope. Keith did not show.  
This had happened many times before, and the few times Keith did actually return, it was so late that there was no point in him even turning up. Firstly as a joke, they had begun to keep a tally. As it got more and more depressing, it was swiftly abandoned. But it demonstrated well enough the standpoint of the paladins in regards to Keith. Frankly, they had long moved past jokes.  
Every now and again, Lance would knock on Keith's door, to check if he was in. He had yet to make good on his promise to teach him Korean. But one thing that Lance had learnt was that Keith was not very good with promises. Keith answered once, with such tired eyes and an exhausted voice that Lance had no alternative to let him be. At least he was sleeping.  
But he certainly wasn't sleeping in his room (Coran had even broken down his door to check). He was out with the Blade of Marmora again, and was likely not to be back until much later, if they were lucky enough for him to return at all. Christ. Victory or death, huh?

Coran cleared his throat, announcing that there was no use waiting for Keith. He said they should just go. So they went. Almost as soon as he had left it, Lance was back in the Red Lion. Although he had been using it for God knows how long now, the smell was still unfamiliar and estranging. Still kinda like Keith, he supposed. It wasn't unpleasant; It was earthy, natural smelling air, the kind Lance was homesick for. In that sense, he didn't mind getting the Hand-Me-Down Lion from Keith.  
Lance fiddled around with the chair, as the Lion powered up. It still automatically adjusted to Keith's measurements, so every now and again, Lance would have to push it back a little bit. Keith liked to be close to the dashboard (or whatever the Altean equivalent was for Big Screen with all The Controls), his hands tightly gripping the handles (Lance knew this be-cause of the nail marks on the rubber) and his head positioned far forward, that he could best view every angle outisde of the craft.

The blue paladin preferred a more comfortable position; chair gently reclined, with the seat halfway from the dashboard. But the Red Lion still thought Keith was driving him, so Lance's seemingly freakish legs were pressed up awkwardly, knees lodged between the screen and his chest. Even sentient space Lions couldn't figure out how legs worked sometimes.  
He was tired, exhausted. Lance wished he were back in the castle playing videos games with Hunk, or watching space television in the living room. He was tired of being whatever he was now, and wanted to, just for a sweet second, be a 17 year old boy from Cuba. God, he couldn't wait to be just a teenager again. But by the time they'd finish, if they ever would finish or at the very least perish, he wouldn't be a boy anymore. Lance doubted he had been for a very long time. 

Keith was nowhere to be seen when they returned. It had at least been a few hours since they left- well, whatever-the-fuck hours were in space. Pidge guessed between five and six. 

"He must be doing an all-nighter again." Hunk suggested.

Pidge looked up from their food.

"Well, night is-" 

"You know what I mean."

"It is too important a time to have Paladins missing." 

The table turned to Allura, who had just walked into the dining room. She stood with her arms folded, daintily, as if a ballerina were imitating irritation for a routine. Every step she took, she glided. It was impossible not to stare.

"We know. Trust me." Lance responded.

She approached the head of the table and took her place there. 

"I fear-" 

A fork dropped from Hunk's hands. He apologized.

"I fear he might not be taking his role seriously."

After a beat of silence, the trio nodded. Lance, especially vigorously.

"We must bring this up when he returns."

"If." Pidge said softly.

"What?"

"If he returns, Allura." They said, this time a little louder.

It was quiet after that. Once everyone had finished eating and made themselves busy, Lance threw himself on the couch. God, this was fucking unbearable.  
He only woke up when he heard something scrape across the floor. Carefully looking up, Lance spotted Shiro cross the living area into the kitchen. So he's alive, huh? They used to rarely ever see the big man himself, it was pretty rough. Zarkon must've really done him in. But it seemed as if he was getting better, and they all theorized it had something to do with Keith.

"Hey, dude." Lance said from the couch.

No response. Huh. Can't blame him. Lance rarely saw him eat. Best to let him be.

"Sorry, did you say something?" Shiro said suddenly, poking his head from the room.

"Oh, just saying hi. Nothing important."

Shiro smiled and nodded, turning back to the kitchen. Lance stood up to go to his room. Be-fore he left, he made an impulse decision to go into the kitchen.

"Shiro?"

He was cutting a loaf of space-substitute-bread. It tasted more of less like generic bread, just had a much harder, extra-terrestrial texture to it. Shiro looked up at him and gave a polite smile.

"Keith's been gone pretty long now." He started cautiously, "Is he... is he okay? You two are pretty close."

Shiro paused.

"He's just been really focused on the Blade. Trust me, i've been thinking about it too."

Lance felt nerves rise through his chest. He leaned against one of the kitchen counters.

"Yeah. I, uhm, I just... do you think this has anything to do with what happened with you and the Black Lion?"

They were both quiet. Lance suddenly panicked. 

"It's not... I don't mean it in an accusatory way, it's just been a theory of mine." Lance stut-tered, "Now that Alluras got Blue, I've got Red, and Black is starting to come back... Maybe he feels pushed out."

"Hm... I understand." He said after a few seconds of thinking, "Your concerns are valid, Lance. But Keith, he is the true Black paladin. He doesn't want to accept it. And we cannot force him to. But the truth is there."

They both nodded.

"Before- thats different. Its all different now." He continued, "Whatever happens, Lance, Voltron will have a leader. Don't worry about that. Now try and get some rest, okay?"

"Okay."

But it wasn't Voltron Lance was worried about.

 

Keith came back eventually. After a Very Long Time, actually. Maybe it was a day, or two. They were waiting for him in the living room, and they were not happy. That he was safe, they expressed relief for. But that was about as pleasant it would get. 

Allura lead the discussion- No, the witch-hunt, in Keith's eyes. She stood at the front of the room, regal authority pulsed from her stance alone. Something about that made Keith upset. He guessed it was more the matter-of-fact tone she used, or the way she twitched her eye-brows every time she finished a sentence. 

"A part of Voltron" this. "Responsibilities" that. "Fuck" this. Keith was tired of hearing it and everyone else was tired of saying it. It was when Allura clicked her tongue dismissively did Keith utterly lose it. He stormed off. No one dared follow, not even Shiro. 

It would take a few hours of radio silence for anyone to see him again. He had his Marmora suit on and was spotted by the hangar. So obviously, nothing had gotten to him. It was only Hunk who saw him, and only Lance did he tell this to. Neither of them shared this infor-mation ultimately.

It might have been three days later when Keith came "home" again. He seemed to have cooled off a bit, but with a dark bruise just beneath his left eye. Lance made another impulse decision: He knocked on Keith's door. The man who greeted him was worn and ragged, but a little more upbeat in energy. A surprise to Lance. It gave him confidence to continue.

"Hey man. So, uhm, I've been doing some math..."

 

KEITH  
It was clear what needed to be done. What kind of leader couldn't even fucking make every-one feel necessary? Valuable? It was obvious to Keith what he had to do. He'd kicked Shiro from his Lion, fucking everything up for everyone. Now Lance was worried. Everyone was worried. Who would be voted off this island? Who would be deemed most invaluable? A fucked up popularity contest?  
Keith wanted no part. He saw where this was going. It was a ploy. Everyone thought that Keith should resign, and just fuck off to the Blade. What sort of leader was he even? Who was never even fucking there? They probably organized it carefully, behind his back. They knew he had a soft spot. 

Keith was smiling then. A reassuring smile, or at least an attempt at one. Lance couldn't help but reciprocate. Then he walked away, gliding elegantly out of the door. Keith was still smiling when the door shut. And then it still stayed, even when he pressed his hands into his face. Even when he rammed his face into his pillow, and laughed. Laughed until it became slowly sadder and sadder. And laughed until it became fully empty. Why was he even trying to save this?

No. This wasn't their doing. This was his fault, Keith's fault. Had he not abandoned them... had he... had he done things differently...

Had he not done enough? Shiro, the Blade, Voltron... Was he really so inadequate? Keith had been sick with stress ever since his figurative brother had returned. Everything landed on Keith. Leader? He was none. If he couldn't even handle a little pressure without running away, like he always did, he couldn't be considered a leader. Right?

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. He lifted his knife to hurl it at the wall, but caught himself out. A hothead. Loner. Impulsive. Coward.

Not the traits he needed to have.

Instead, in his frustration, anger, exasperation, Keith did something he ever so rarely did. He sat on the floor and sobbed. Sobbed for himself, for Shiro, for everything. And then, he finally allowed himself to rest, in a pathetic lump on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! Season 7 didn't happen in this universe and no one can convince me otherwise ashfdgsjfh


End file.
